Shattered
by PenonPaperFingersonKeys
Summary: She breaks him into a million little pieces, through ways that seem insignificant, until they accumulate together into a web of pain that he can barely hold in his fragile heart. "For the 'The Fall of the Roman Empire' challenge at HPFC."


Whatever they had, it's eventually a love story. Not a happy one – they suffer too much for it to be happy – but the two of them, Lily Evans and James Potter, fall in love. They fall so hard and deep, that both of them know when it happens, and both of them realise that it's impossible for them to retract themselves from this, as they have done with so many relationships before. They are trapped and helpless against the other. But this tale is a love story, and in the end, they share kisses in the mornings and keep each other warm at night. Eventually.

However, they don't come to a happy end, and they don't have a happy beginning. They suffer through the torment of one another. She hurts him, stabs him with her metaphorical dagger right through the heart. He, unsure of how to represent his feelings, resorts to pranks. Making her feel stupid, and lowering her already fragile self-esteem. They fight and call each other harsh names.

Then she breaks him.

She breaks him into a million little pieces, through fragments that seem insignificant, until they accumulate together into a web of pain that he can barely hold. We cannot pinpoint the break at any one time, only many. We cannot pinpoint the reason for his shattered heart on any one reason, only many. And he doesn't know them, but she does.

But they know it, and she doesn't. They know that in the end, she'll put him back together with loving words and a kiss.

_(Indifference)_

She's a nice girl, and can often be seen helping people with their problems, tutoring those falling behind. If he wasn't so arrogant, then maybe it would have been different, maybe she would have cared. But she didn't, and that was the first problem: indifference.

She was indifferent whenever he was upset, and she didn't care if he was left with a broken heart after having had her usual battle of words with him. She would never seek him out to talk to him, and she would never intentionally bump into him in the corridors, even to do something malicious or hurtful. She just _didn't care._

He sits in the room, in the furthest chair away from her and watches, not even bothering to hide the fact that he's staring at her. He scrawls out the words '_Mrs. Lily Potter'_ when she walks past, and smiles innocently, hoping for a reaction, but she doesn't even notice. She has a lack of sympathy, a lack of interest for him and he is desperate for attention.

So he takes to hexing kids in the corridor – because surely she can't ignore that. She doesn't, and she yells at him, screaming hurtful, degrading words that don't affect him in the way they're supposed to because he is too busy watching her eyes light up with anger, _those pretty green eyes_, and her hair fall out of place when she yells, _so brilliant and bright red_, and he can't help but smile, earning him a hex. He keeps hexing the people that 'annoy him', when really, he only does it because she's around, and maybe it means she'll notice him.

And then she starts to ignore him, pursing her lips when he hexes people, but doing nothing. He's disappointed and upset because now she doesn't look at him at all. Now he's just another face blending in with the crowd, and she can't see him no matter how hard he tries.

He starts kissing girls, dating them then dumping them, hoping for a reaction. He gets nothing, and both he and the faceless girls are disappointed for different reasons completely. Suddenly, there is one girl who she dislikes almost as much as she dislikes himself, so he chucks caution to the wind and asks the girl to Hogsmeade, even though he hates the sound of her shrilly laughter, and forgets her name every _fucking_ five seconds. He's happy because Lily's looking at him, throwing him glares, and occasionally leaning over to mutter something to her friends. Although she probably only hates him more, it's worth it to see her green eyes glinting at him – even in anger.

So he dates what's-her-face for two months in their fifth year. Longer than any of the other what's-her-faces, and the girl thinks she actually has a chance of holding James Potter's heart. She doesn't, and only he knows it. He dumps her after their two month mark.

One night, he walks down to the common room, half asleep and in his daggy, yet comfortable, pyjamas. She's sitting there, the firelight playing on her face with tears threatening to fall from her eyes. When he walks down, her head snaps up to look at him, and she stares up in shock. "Potter," she whispers. She wraps her arms self-conciously around her torso. She's wearing an overly large shirt and long pants, and she looks at him carefully. "What are you doing?"

He smiles, and takes a seat near her. "Hey." There is a silence in which she stares at him, eyes wide. He feels giddily happy that she is looking at him without anger, just staring at _him_, James Potter, but he has never been in this situation before, so he uses his fall back – cockiness. "Like what you see?" He mentally slaps himself as her expression becomes irritated.

"Go to bed, Potter."

He does, leaving her alone to dwell in the sadness of whatever she is crying about. He thinks that he has done her a favour by leaving. She asked it and he did it, with none of the fuss that he'd usually put up.

Later – much later – he learns that leaving without a word was the worst thing he could have done.

He thinks in the morning that she'll be different to him after that night of vulnerability, but she's not. It's the same routine: he does something and she looks away.

He starts dating more and more, snogging girls without even getting to know them first. He's growing up and everybody can tell – his scrawny figure is now packed with muscle, not too much and not too little. His sharply defined features seem more..._handsome_ than hawk-like. Girls start to describe him as 'hot' rather than 'cute' and he likes it, apart from the fact that the only girl he wants doesn't shoot him a single look, let alone second glances. She continues on with her daily life, scoffing at the plentiful mentions of him: _"Look at Potter, he's looking _fine_. Don't you think, Lily?" _

He's desperate and he knows it and soon Sirius, Remus and Peter begin to catch on too. They tease him ruthlessly, and he thinks that none of them really understand what it's like to be trapped under Lily Evans' spell, yet not be noticed by the girl herself. He's lonely, even though he's surrounded by people who just want a piece of James _fucking_ Potter.

When he finally transforms into his Animagus, he's deliriously happy, yet a small part of him can't help but wonder whether Lily would be proud of him if she knew. He can't tell her though, because it's illegal, and it's the numerous fantasies of her reactions that assist in keeping him content for awhile.

She doesn't notice the way his staring has increased tenfold, or the way his smiles are getting dimmer and dimmer every day because she doesn't notice anything about him, not even the ordinary things.

One day she disappears. It's a Saturday, so no one but him notices. They're all caught up in their own lives to notice the absence of the redhead. Truth be told, if he wasn't so obsessed, he wouldn't have noticed either, and wouldn't have found her crying pitifully in the Forbidden Forest. Her shoulders shaking and her chest heaving as she struggles for air. He wants to know what she's crying about, but he can't do anything apart from back away in shock, and run back to the castle to inform her friend, Alice, who smiles gently and says, "Thanks, James." She goes to leave before hesitating and adding, "I'm sorry...about Lily." And he knows that he's not as secretive about his pain as he thinks. The next day Lily is back to normal and ignoring him. The usual routine.

He resorts to Quidditch – _the beautiful game_. He becomes what one might classify a 'Quidditch Nazi,' practising for hours after their official practice ends and playing in his free time. He has always loved the game, but now he becomes obsessive, subconsciously hoping that she might notice him if he's good at Quidditch. She does notice, though she stares down her nose at him, claiming he has much better things to do than that stupid game.

He tries and tries and tries, but she never seems to notice him standing there, always on the sidelines.

It's not her fault really. She's just sick and tired of the boy's annoying whines, and his stupidly conceited attention seeking ways. She's ignorant to the fact that they're to catch her attention. To make her look. She only sees those times when he does it to get girls, or to further his reputation of being all that.

She doesn't look past that confident gait, or that cocky smile, to see the awkward, fumbling boy who just wants her to notice him.

She is presumptuous to think that she knows him, even when she doesn't. She thinks that James Potter is just a boy who feeds off of his wealth and pureblood status, when he is anything but. She does not take the time to learn that being blinded by first impressions means him never being able to make a new one.

Even when he has those rare moments of sincerity around her, she can't believe it, because she doesn't make new slates for people. She doesn't let everything go by, she doesn't give people free leave, and she holds her grudges for years. James Potter is no exception to her rule, and he will always be that 'arrogant prat' who ruffles his hair to look cool, and plays Quidditch to get the girls.

She can't be concerned enough to care whether he hurts at the words she throws so cruelly at him, and she never checks whether the smile on his face is forced or genuine the way that he does.

She doesn't notice the small things like he does.

He knows that her favourite colour is blue, because of that one time he overheard her telling her friends how _Henry _was sweet enough to buy her a blue jumper, knowing that blue was her favourite colour.

He knows that she hates peppermint, because when Remus offered one to her, she refused politely and told him that she didn't like them very much. And he was smart enough to decode that as: 'I hate them so get those disgusting lollies away from me'. His theory was later confirmed when a girl from Hufflepuff was sharing around peppermints a month afterwards, and when she offered one to Lily, the girl mimicked the reaction she gave to Remus a month before. He couldn't help but smile when she wrinkled her nose at the girl's turned back.

He knows that she is kind and compassionate to everybody but him, and it's slowly tearing out his heart, it's making it bleed. He can see the way her smile fades when he approaches her, and how her laughter dies when she spots him. When the seat next to him is the only one available in class, she takes it with a reluctance that is so painfully obvious, it's like another physical rip at his heart. He can tell that when she says hello to him, it's because the circumstances call for it, and there's no way to ignore him or distract herself. He can count on one hand the amount of times she's called him "James", and since he doesn't count it when she uses his first name while yelling at him, the number gets reduced to zero.

He knows more about her than she knows about him because she doesn't care enough to discover. She knows the surface things – he loves Quidditch, he's not gay, he's allergic to peanuts.

But she doesn't know how, whenever he goes to the library, he searches for her, and if she's not there, he stays there for hours on end to see if she'll come.

She doesn't know how, when she watches a Quidditch match, he seems to miraculously play ten times better than he usually does. How she makes him extraordinary. Even if she's reading one of those muggle books she loves, he can't help but try to impress her because maybe, one day, she'll look up...

She doesn't know a single thing about him because she's indifferent, and can't even pretend to be bothered enough to care.

_(lack of seriousness)_

They've both got those façades they hide behind; she is perfect and he is the King of frivolity, but she's awkwardly flawed, and his serious hazel eyes tell all. It doesn't matter to him though, because he's convinced that everything she does is perfect, even if she thinks that he doesn't take a goddamn thing seriously. She hates him for laughing – how can he when they're in a war? – and he hates her for always being right, always being faultless. But, really, while she may hate him, he can't hate her. Not in the same way she does. He loves her and hates himself because of it.

And even though he takes nothing seriously, it's her that is the one to blame. She doesn't take his pleas in earnest even when it is painfully clear to everybody else that he is sincere. She doesn't take anything about him seriously – not his Quidditch, not his words, not his opinion, and definitely not him.

So he grows up. He tries to act a little more mature and he gets Head Boy. She thinks it's a joke, because everything is a sodding joke for James Potter. He knows that to impress her he's got to lose that little bit of dignity and shed the person that he's been for the last seventeen years. He becomes that precious little swot he's always hated; the ones that hand in their homework and walk around with their bum stuck out and nose right up. Still, she doesn't believe that anything has changed, that he's changed for her, and she scoffs at the way he pretends to be Head Boy, even though it's clear to everybody but herself, that none of it is pretend anymore.

His friends can see that she's become an obsession, and they can't do anything but protest weakly that it's not healthy, and watch with accusing eyes as he walks up to her, heart in hand, and she gives him a silly laugh. Because she can't take James Potter seriously, not even when his eyes lose their spark.

He smiles, laughs, brushing it away like he doesn't have a care in the world when he does – when he's constantly plagued with worries and fears and doubts, and he feels like he's dying under the constant pressure of being so happy and lighthearted, when really, he just wants to walk around and be gloomy – like Snape.

He tells her he loves her –_"I love you, Lily. I know I've said things before that I've been lying about, but I truly love you." – _and she raises a disbelieving eyebrow and chuckles –_"Potter, I'm not like those other girls who will just take in everything you say. I can recognize a lie, believe it or not." – _even when he's being so serious it's breaking his heart. So he walks away, looking dejected and helpless, and his friends know that even if they tried, they couldn't put together the shattered pieces of his heart when it breaks.

But they try. Sirius talks to her one day, grabbing her arm roughly as she moves to leave the classroom. He drags her to an old, dusty corridor where there is no one in sight, and they are quite alone. She would never admit it, but the cold rage of his grey eyes make her nervous. "Evans," Sirius snaps suddenly. "Stop it."

She's confused. She doesn't know what she's done wrong or why he's cornering her when she should be at lunch. She goes to walk away, but he's barring her exit. "What?" She asks irritably, hands on hips and glaring.

Sirius sighs angrily at the ignorance of the girl. "Stop messing with Prongs! Stop leaving him to dust! Stop trying to break his heart because you're bored, or for whatever selfish reason you're doing it!"

She pulls her hand back, and there is a loud snap as her hand connects with his cheek. Her eyes are filled with rage, more so than when she looks at James. She is angry because Sirius Black was so close to the mark, so close to a small private part of her that is locked away, deep beneath shallow feelings and petty desires. "You ever..." she stops abruptly and looks away from Sirius to another boy hidden in the shadows. "Take your puppy dog back, Potter." She snaps, turning on her heels, and walking away from the two boys left in the corridor.

They exchange looks yet say nothing, because he understands that Sirius was trying to do what was right for him, and Sirius only now realises that he will never let go of Lily Evans. James doesn't say anything on the matter, only smiles lightly and comments on the next prank, because he is the King of frivolity, and that's what he does.

And when he apologises to her the next day, she raises her nose in the air and walks away without a word exchanged because she is sure he's making fun of her, even when he's being as serious as can be.

_(loss of energy)_

She's too tired to be bothered enough to care. She knows that the world is slowly falling down around her and there's nothing she can do about it. She's supposed to be _Lily Evans,_ but now she feels like _nobody, _because Lily Evans is strong, and proud, and she doesn't let anything affect her. But now she's scared, and she doesn't have anything to be proud of anymore, and suddenly, even the most funny comment can bring unshed tears to her eyes.

She's too absorbed in her life, and too weary to notice the way he stares at her, with unhidden longing and unmasked love. She can't even look because her own eyes are drawn to the essay she works on or the textbook she reads. Even if all she really wants is to throw the bloody book into the fire and sleep.

She's tired and ashamed of her tiredness, so she does what he doesn't. She hides it.

And, even while he's in the same position, he only yawns loudly when people ask him how he is and says, "I'm so tired!". She smiles politely and nods her head, because she has to pretend to be fine. He is the superior one in this situation. He doesn't have to hide the fact that he doesn't give a damn all the bloody time. Not like how she has to pretend to be the vivacious redhead they all know and like. She has to pretend to be that loving and kind girl, and she's sick of pretending, but she doesn't drop the act because, unlike him, she cares about what other people think. He can't be stuffed thinking at all.

The only person he bothers to care about is her, and she doesn't notice because she's so exhausted of the day, the week, the month, the year. She's so exhausted of her life.

If she had a bit of energy left, she may have shot him a smile, or said hello, but she doesn't. She only glares because that is so much easier then doing anything else. It's the only thing her tired body ever seems able to do anymore.

They're both lacking the energy to do anything, and while she hates it, he loves it, because that means that he has something in common with her. Even if that something is one that only he can see.

_(Stress)_

She's too under that constant strain of protecting her family – her muggle family – against the war to notice the way he always seems to make the right comment, or how he hands her that little piece of chocolate when she comes close to crying. She's under too much pressure to be perfect to notice how he lets her have those chances to just be herself. She's meant to be smart, popular and pretty, and sometimes she forgets that he lets her have those chances to be anything but.

She doesn't put all those things together to see the James Potter that is sweet and comforting, that allows her to cry when nobody is watching. Or maybe she doesn't want to see.

He can see though, painfully, the stress that's put on her and the way she deals with it by using him. She yells at him a bit louder, a little more viciously when he sees a Muggle family has been attacked in the Daily Prophet, and he feels his heart breaking that little bit more on the inside.

Because being Lily Evans is too hard, and she has to do something instead of pretending to be happy the whole _goddamn_ time. So when it rains, she goes outside and cries, because no one can see her tears mingling with the rain. She sits under the beech tree, the one that holds so many good and bad memories, and tries to cry away her tears. No one notices or suspects her feeble lie of going for a walk, because what else could she be doing? And she thinks that now that she's cried, she's free, even when she's far from it.

No one truly understands but him, because he's constantly living up to the expectations of his peers to be quirky, fun, happy, and he's constantly trying to be a proper Potter, who is dignified and a natural born leader. He's constantly trying to be the person everybody else wants him to be, but she can't say anything to him because he's James Potter, that same old arrogant prat and she's too stressed to notice that he's different.

_(tiredness of life)_

And maybe she hurts him because she doesn't care, because she believes that the insults will rebound off of him, because she is tired of life, or maybe because she is stretched thin with demand. Perhaps it's because she's just so tired, and falling asleep and never waking up sounds so inviting whenever there is a Muggle attack in the paper, or somebody she knows dies. Something that is becoming increasingly common with the war.

Subconsciously, she knows that she lives to see his smile, and she loves to watch the way he dances when he's roaring drunk. Although the thoughts are buried so deep under everything else, it is inevitable that one day they will rise, and eventually she will be able to embrace these feelings – and him along side.

But for now, she yells at him, and in the heat of the moment, says something that drives all those fractional cracks in his heart, deeper in than ever before, encouraging it to break. "James Potter," her voice is dripping with venom and her eyes glinting with a mad desire to hurt him, "you're worthless. Did you know that? Worthless."

And he's worthless because she won't look at him, because she thinks that everything he does is a joke, because she's tired of life, and stressed, and she takes it out on him. And he's worthless so he breaks.

_(breaking)_

_It was an accident_; later they believe her.

_I didn't mean it_; she may have not meant it intentionally but eventually it happened and she was to blame.

_It's not my fault_; that, they know, is a blatant lie.


End file.
